


Drop Dead Fed

by Zara_Zee



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, FBI Agent Jensen Ackles, Gun Violence, M/M, NSFW Art, Organized Crime, top/bottom switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zee/pseuds/Zara_Zee
Summary: Special Agent Jensen Ackles is working day and night to bring down the infamous Cortese Drug Cartel. His workload is so demanding that he hasn’t been laid in months, which is probably why he’s crushing hard on Jay – the hot guy who recently openedJack of Tarts, the awesome new bakery near the office.  They’ve been flirting for weeks and Jensen is sure it’s building up to something mind blowing.Someone trying to blow his brains out while he’s getting his daily cupcake fix is not exactly what he had in mind.





	Drop Dead Fed

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** _I have borrowed the names and faces of certain actors without their knowledge or approval. Not a word of this is true, I've just got them playing parts in my fictional drama. For fun, not profit._
> 
> Written for the 2018 J2_Reversebang. Inspired by the amazing art of Merakieros, which can be found [HERE](https://merakieross.livejournal.com/13947.html) and is also incorporated in the story.

It’s nearly midday and Jensen’s been at his desk since 7am.

There are transcripts to read through, reports to write, recommendations to make, warrants to apply for, and that’s just as a result of the bugs in Milo Ventimiglia’s house.  There are seven other properties associated with the Cortese Cartel that Jensen’s task force has under surveillance, and if he puts in a twelve hour day, Jensen might be able to get through the information they collected overnight from maybe half of them.

Jensen still isn’t clear who heads up the Cartel—there are a lot of Corteses in the ranks—but whoever they are, they’re clever, with a good head for business, and if you conveniently forget that drug trafficking and killing people who get out of line are illegal, Jensen would be impressed by the organization. The Cortese Cartel is successful, it inspires loyalty and, just quietly, Jensen can see that they’re doing a better job of clearing out the underworld’s rogue elements than law enforcement has ever done. Still. Drug trafficking and extra judicial killings are illegal and it’s Jensen’s job to catch the people responsible and put them out of business.

Jensen has been living and breathing the Cortese Cartel for nearly two years now and he’s building up a good picture of the person in charge. Despite himself, he’s come to quite admire them and he has to keep reminding himself that the law is the law and that’s that.  He even has a theory (one that Chris laughed at uproariously) about who the head honcho might be. He can’t prove it yet, but Jensen feels like he’s getting close.

He sighs and lifts his butt cheeks up off his vinyl desk chair, one cheek at a time, flexing each one and trying to get the blood flowing again before his ass goes completely, unrecoverably numb. He’s midway through wiggling his ass when the elevator into the Task Force’s open plan office pings and Chris Kane steps out of it wearing blue jeans, a red and blue plaid shirt and a cowboy hat. Jensen would bet good money that he’s got his pointy-toed cowboy boots on too.

“Ackles,” he drawls. “You finally get laid?”

Jensen stops squirming and glares at his partner.

“Some of us,” he says pointedly, “have been sitting at our desks since ass o’clock this morning. Where the hell have you been, Kane?”

Chris smirks. “You know that bartender down at The Indigo? Holly? The one with the,” he cups his hands in front of his chest as if he’s holding a large pair of breasts in them. “I’ve been there. Done that. And got the tee-shirt. Well, I got breakfast anyway,” he frowns. “More like brunch, I guess.”

“Charming,” Jensen shakes his head.

Chris strolls to his own desk, right beside Jensen’s, and sinks down onto his chair. He switches on his desktop and then pivots to face Jensen. “You seriously need to get laid,” he says, “and then maybe you wouldn’t be such a grumpy douchebag. How long’s it been since whathisname? Two years? Three?”

“Two and a half,” Jensen mutters. “And fuck you. If I seem grumpy, it’s because I had to spend the whole morning going through all these transcripts by myself. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“Hey,” Kane waits until Jensen meets his eyes to continue. “I’m sorry, man, but Holly was too good to pass up. I promise I’ll stay back late, get my share done. In the meantime, why don’t you take a break? Go get a coffee and a cupcake from that new bakery you like so much.”

Jensen checks the clock on his computer screen again and decides that he could definitely go for some food. Maybe he should get one of Jay’s savory pot-pies as well as one of his cupcakes. Does he want a cupcake today? Maybe he should get a choc chip muffin instead? Jay’s muffins are amazing, so soft and fluffy. Although it _is_ hard to go past his cupcakes; they’re so light and moist and the icing is sweet, but not too sweet, a bit like Jay himself really; sweet but not too sweet, sassy but not too sassy, hot but not too hot, although he does have an _amazing_ ass and legs that just won’t quit, and Chris is looking at him with a sickeningly knowing smile.

“Shuddup,” Jensen says. “He’s a really good baker.”

Chris, the fucker, just keeps smirking so Jensen puts his suit jacket on and stands up.

“Bring me back a cupcake,” Kane yells when Jensen reaches the elevator. “A _manly_ cupcake!”

Jensen rolls his eyes.

It’s a short brisk walk to _Jack of Tarts_ and even though it’s only spring, the sky is blue and the sun is shining and Jensen enjoys the fresh air and the exercise. Jensen’s current assignment is still at the information gathering stage. It’s all intel and paperwork and sitting on his ass in the office going through it all. Jensen far prefers the end stage of his assignments when he gets to knock down doors and round up bad guys. Any excuse to get out of the office these days is a welcome one, and Jensen has been going down to _Jack of Tarts_ to get his cupcake (and his Jay) fix every day since it opened.

Jensen pushes the bakery door open and the jingling bell causes Jay to look up from where he’s standing behind the counter frosting a large birthday cake.

Jay is wearing his usual black apron, and tight black pants that frame his ass really nicely, along with a hot-pink collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jensen takes a moment to admire his muscular forearms. 

“Jensen,” Jay grins widely. “Good to see you.”

His assistant, a small brunette woman, is serving coffee and cake to a couple sitting at one of the three round tables in the bakery.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” she says, but Jay waves her off.

“It’s okay, Sandy, I’ve got this.”

Jay puts down his piping tube, wipes his hands on his apron and moves over to the register.

‘So, Jensen,” he meets Jensen’s eyes and smiles, warm and welcoming. “What can I get for you today?”

Jensen can hardly be held responsible if he gets a little lost in those beautiful, soulful eyes, which are looking right at him as if he’s the only thing in the world that matters.

“Jensen?” Jay prompts.

“I, um,” Jensen clears his throat. “Lunch.  You got any of those Beef and Burgundy pot pies today?”

Jay shakes his head. “We’ve got chicken and leak today. Or spinach and ricotta rolls.”

Jensen scrunches his nose. “Spinach and ricotta? Dude, this is Texas!”

Jay’s smile widens. He leans forward on the counter and lowers his tone. “So,” he says, conspiratorially, “you’re telling me you’re the kind of guy who likes to get some meat in his mouth?”

Jensen’s jaw drops. “I can’t believe you just said that!”

Jay straightens up and steps back, his hand held up, palms out. “I’m sorry. That was a really bad line. Not that it was a line, if you’re, you know, straight and likely to panic.”

Jay’s blushing and Jensen can’t help finding it adorable.

“And if I’m not straight?” he asks.

Jay’s still blushing. “Then it was totally a line and I’m definitely trying to pick you up.”

Jensen laughs. “I’d definitely be on board with us getting to know each other better, but that was a _seriously_ bad line, man.”

Jay ducks his head. “It really was, wasn’t it?” he sighs. “Sorry, it’s just…been a while since I had to do the whole, you know, trying to let someone know I’m interested.”

Jensen’s ears prick up at that. “I can’t believe a guy like you would struggle to get a date,” a thought occurs to him and he frowns. “Or have you just come out of a long term relationship?”

He hopes the answer is no, Jensen really doesn’t want to be the rebound guy.

Jay is looking at him intently. He licks his lips and looks away from Jensen briefly and then says, “The bakery, it’s a new direction for me. Before I opened _Jack of Tarts_ I was in a very different line of work. High risk, high reward, you know the drill: Six figures, doing business with lead-pipe cruelty, mercenary sensibility. No real relationships with anyone, just meaningless, casual sex, occasionally.”

Huh. Jensen can’t imagine Jay as a stockbroker or investment banker or whatever. He seems too kind and laid-back, what with his hipster beard, his soulful eyes and his hot-pink shirts.

“Six figures,” Jensen whistles. “What made you get out? Obviously it wasn’t the money.”

Jay smiles. “No, the money was great. I guess I just burnt out. I’m happier now,” he clears his throat. “And speaking of my current line of work, do you want a chicken and leak pot pie?”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll give it a shot. And I’ll take a choc chip muffin too.  And a flat white. Oh and give me a cupcake too. With pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles.”

Jay gathers his order. “So tomorrow’s Friday,” he says while he’s working the coffee machine. “You maybe wanna go and get dinner somewhere after I close up?”

“Hell yes,” Jensen says eagerly. He clears his throat and tries to sound a little less desperate. “I mean, sure. That’d be cool.”

Jay laughs. “Cool,” he echoes. “Meet you out the front here at six?”

Jensen frowns. “Don’t you wanna go home and get changed first?”

“Oh,” Jay ducks his head sheepishly. “I, uh, live above the shop. It’s not much, but it’s close to work.”

Jensen practically floats back to the office, so delighted is he by the prospect of a date with Jay.

He eats his pie and his muffin at his desk while he goes through his email and not even Kane’s bitching about the ‘gay’ cupcake Jensen tossed to him can derail his good mood.

Jensen chooses his clothes carefully the next morning. He chooses a silver, pin-striped three piece suit, a crisp white shirt and an emerald tie. He styles his hair carefully. He looks pretty damn good, if he does say so himself.

During peak hour, it’s a forty minute drive straight down Route 75 from Jensen’s apartment in Richardson to the special task force’s headquarters, innocuously located in a mundane office block in Downtown Dallas. Jensen’s whistling happily when he arrives and Kane is already at his desk, a minor miracle in itself.

Jensen is starting to feel like it’s going to be a fantastic day; which in retrospect explains a lot.

He’s just started checking his emails when the door into Task Force Head Jim Beaver’s office opens and Jim sticks his head out.

“Ackles, Kane,” he says gravely. “My office.”

Jensen and Chris look at each other briefly, before shutting down their workstations and heading over.

Inside Jim’s office is another surprise. J.D. Morgan, Director of the FBI’s Dallas Field office, is leaning against the wall, with his feet crossed at the ankles and his arms held loosely by his sides.

“Take a seat, gentlemen,” Beaver says, before slipping behind his desk.

Kane looks from one to the other, his brow drawn.

“What’s goin’ on?” he says.

Beaver glances at Morgan who nods.

“One of our undercover operatives got some intel about a hit being taken out by the Cortese cartel,” Beaver says.

Jensen frowns. “They usually take care of that sort of thing inhouse.”

Jeff Morgan nods. “Not this time. This time they’ve gone for an independent contractor. Our undercover guy doesn’t know who took the job, but he knows the contract has gone live.”

“Who’s the target?” Kane asks. “Do you want us to take them into protective custody? Or do you want us to shadow them; use them as bait?”

The Director looks steadily at Kane for a moment and then switches his gaze to Jensen. “Jensen is the target,” he says.

Time slows. Jensen’s mind goes momentarily blank and then the panic hits. Someone wants to kill him. They could be out there right now with a long gun, putting him in the crosshairs. He shivers.

“Why me?” he says. “There are six people on this task force.”

“You and Chris are the lead agents,” Jeff says. “And it seems that your personal diligence, Jensen, along with your dogged dedication and the insights in your reports have really pissed off the head of the Cartel. We know they’ve got at least one genius hacker, which is why I keep pushing so hard for all our information to be kept in hard copy, not soft, but it’s also possible they’ve got a mole in the Bureau. Either way, you’re going into protective custody. We’ll be putting both you and Chris up at a bureau safe house.”

For an FBI agent it’s SOP to keep a packed overnight bag in your car, so neither Jensen nor Chris have to go home to pack. Jeff gives them the address of the safe house and tells them to take one of the covert surveillance vehicles out of the building’s underground parking lot.

“I’m driving,” Kane says.

Jensen doesn’t argue. His hands are shaking too much to drive.

“Fuck,” he says as they make their way out of the parking lot. “I’ve got a date with Jay tonight and I don’t have his number to cancel.”

He turns to Chris. “We gotta drive past the bakery.”

“No way,” Chris says. “We’re going straight to the safe house.”

“Please?” Jensen drops his bottom lip and pulls out the puppy dog eyes. “I’ll be quick. Just…in and out. You can hover out the front; don’t even have to switch the engine off.”

Chris sighs. “Fine.”

Of course there are no free spaces out the front and Chris has to drive half a block and turn down a side street before he finds somewhere to park. Jensen promises again that he’ll be quick and he walks briskly with his head lowered. It’s a risk, but only a small one. He doubts his would-be assassin knows where the task force’s office is and even if they do, the surveillance vehicle has dark windows. He probably has more chance of winning the lottery than the assassin lucking on to him out on the street. 

The bakery is busy when Jensen hurriedly pushes open the door. There are at least half a dozen people lining up for coffee and breakfast pastries and Jay is chatting with them all as he takes their orders. On the surface he seems as relaxed and happy as ever, but Jensen can see a tension in his shoulders and around his eyes that he’s not used to seeing. And Jensen would know; he’s spent a lot of time staring at this man. Finally, it’s Jensen’s turn.  There are still a couple of people waiting for their coffees by the Gaggia, but no one else came in after Jensen.

Jay meets Jensen’s eyes and smiles. It’s a warm, intimate smile and it makes Jensen feel like there’s no one else in the room.

“Hey you,” he says.

Jay’s smile broadens. “You’re in early today.”

The door alert chimes as the last two customers exit the shop and Jensen remembers why he’s here and his smile fades. Well at least now there’s privacy if Jay takes it badly.

“I’m really sorry, Jay, but I’m gonna have to take a rain check on our date tonight. Something’s come up.”

For a brief moment Jensen thinks Jay looks relieved and then his face shadows.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says. “Maybe another time?”

Jensen nods. “Yeah. I’d like that. I’d--” he stops talking abruptly when Jay’s eyes widen in what can only be described as terror.

And then Jared is flying over the top of the counter, his body smashing hard into Jensen’s as they both fall to the floor. The front window of the bakery shatters and the back wall explodes in a shower of plaster.

“Fuck,” Jensen says and then Jared is pushing open the swinging door that’s built into the counter and dragging Jensen behind the pastry cabinets.

Jensen takes a good look at the back wall. “Fuck,” he mutters again. “Long range rifle, high calibre rounds.”

Sandy is squatting behind the counter, just underneath the Gaggia. She has a revolver in one hand and is scowling.

“Fucking _bitch_ ,” she says.

Jensen blinks and then inclines his head and studies the back of the counter. It’s made of heavily reinforced steel. Is that standard for a bakery?

Meanwhile, Jay has reached into a cupboard recessed into the back of said counter and pulled out a Sig Sauer. Huh. Jensen frowns. That’s a P226, designed for the US Army and carried by elite forces. It’s one of the world’s leading combat pistols.

Jensen clears his throat and draws his own gun.

Jay glances at it and frowns. “1911 Custom professional. You’re not a Fed are you?”

Jensen nods. “You wanna see my badge?”

“Fuck,” Jay says.

“A Fed,” Sandy screeches. “You’re dating a fucking _Fed_? _You_?”

Jay produces an epic bitch face. “Well it’s not like he was wearing a badge that said ‘Hello, I’m a Fed, Ask me How,’ was it?”

“I keep it in my pocket,” Jensen says helpfully.

Jay frowns at him.

“My badge,” Jensen clarifies, getting it out of his jacket pocket and holding it out to Jay.

“FBI,” Jay reads. “Special Agent Jensen Ackles.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” Jensen adds.

Jay tilts his head. He eyes Jensen speculatively and frowns. “ _You_ dragged _me_ into this?”

Jensen nods. “That thing that came up? I learned today that someone I’m investigating ordered a hit on me.”

“Ah,” Sandy says. “I take back the _bitch_ comment. I guess I should’ve known better really. Looks like she didn’t go back on her word after all, Jared.”

Jensen frowns. “Jared? I thought your full name was Jack?”

Sandy’s eyes go wide and she mouths the word _sorry_ at Jay who grimaces.

“New business, new name,” he says, meeting Jensen’s eyes again. “My friends used to call me Jay before and it works for Jack as well, so,” he shrugs.   

Jensen’s stomach clenches. Jay has a new name, a new business, and it seems he thought the hit was for him. It all adds up to one thing; witness protection.

The sound of breaking glass has them all turning their heads. 

“There goes a day’s baking,” Jay says darkly. “The reinforced steel is good, but enough shots with a high enough calibre rifle and something’s gonna get through eventually.”

“I’m sure someone’s called the police by now,” Jensen says.

Jay wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn’t count on it. They’re probably using a jammer.”

Jensen gets out his cell phone and…huh. No signal.

“My partner’s parked just around the corner. He’s gonna come looking if I take too long.”

Jay’s mouth flattens into a grim line. “Or he’s in on it. You never come into the bakery at this time. How did the assassin get set up so quickly if someone didn’t tell them to expect you here?”

Jensen’s stomach clenches again. “Chris is a friend. We’ve been friends for years.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Jay says in the sort of soothing tone that Jensen uses with hysterical witnesses. “But let’s not count on it, okay? Follow me.”

The three of them crawl to a door at the rear of the shop and head through it into a hallway, which has a staircase to the building’s second story in the middle of it and an exit door at the far end.

“Wait here,” Jay says.

He leaves Jensen and Sandy in the hallway and runs up the stairs. Jensen tries his phone again, but he still can’t get a signal.

“I should go and check in with my partner,” Jensen starts for the back door. “Tell Jay--”

“Tell Jay, what?” The man himself is jogging down the stairs carrying a briefcase and two duffle bags.

“You going somewhere, Jay?” Jensen asks.

Jay nods. “You know where to go?” he says to Sandy.

The brunette nods.

“Okay. I’ll be in touch. You know the drill.”

Sandy stands on her tippy toes and kisses Jay’s cheek. “Be careful, Jared.”

Jay… _Jared_ …smiles crookedly. “Always,”

Sandy slips out the back door and Jared stares after her with a fond expression on his face.

Jensen hears a motor start.

“Let’s go,” Jay says.

“My partner,” Jensen begins, but Jared cuts him off.

“Like I said before, your partner could’ve been compromised. Until we know more, we’re better off on our own.”

Jensen shakes his head. “The shooter could’ve been tailing me ever since I left home this morning; that’s a more realistic explanation. This is nothing to do with you, Jay. I need to contact my team, not involve a member of the public.”

“The shooter just shot up my bakery,” Jared says darkly. “I’m now involved. And at this stage, I’m sorry, but you _can’t_ trust your team. It’s just too risky. You need to go off the grid until you figure out who you _can_ trust. I’m your best shot at getting out of this alive.”

Jensen raises his chin, mulishly. “How do I know I can trust _you_?”

Jared doesn’t even hesitate, just lifts his gun and presses it against Jensen’s head. “Because if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.”

Jensen blinks. “Okay,” he says.

Jared lowers the gun. “Let’s go.”

Jensen doesn’t argue, simply follows Jared out onto the street, down the road and into a black SUV with darkly tinted windows. Jared clicks it open with a remote and Jensen climbs into the front passenger seat.

They drive in silence for a few minutes and then Jensen figures he should ask Jared where they’re going.

“Safe house,” Jared says shortly.

“Since when do bakers have safe houses, Jay?”

Jay’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“Or should I call you _Jared_?”

Jared’s mouth tightens and his posture becomes rigid.

Jensen sighs. “I’ve had people put in Witsec before, Jay, I know the drill and I don’t want to compromise your security, but, uh, is there _anything_ you can tell me?”

There’s a long silence and then Jared begins to speak.

“After High School, I did a year of college, but I got bored, so I joined the army instead. My training scores were…pretty good…and I was encouraged to do the Q-Course, which I did.  And then I did a few advanced skills courses. Combat driving. Sniper training. That sort of thing,” he looks over at Jensen and continues when Jensen nods his understanding. “I was a Green Beret for three years,” Jared continues, “and then I was recruited by the CIA’s Special Operations Group for Black Ops. And then…some things happened…and I went freelance.”  

“Freelance?” Jensen doesn’t like the implications of that.

 Jared nods. “There are a lot of private security contractors out there these days. I’m retired now, though.”

“So you became a baker?”

Jared’s smile is a tentative thing. “I’m not actually a qualified baker. I just…I like to bake things. I’ve always found it relaxing and it makes a nice change, creating things, you know?”

“A nice change.”

Jared nods.

“From killing things?”

Jared nods again.

“And by _things_ I mean people.”

Jared turns to look at him. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Jensen says.

“Yeah?” Jared’s expression is hopeful.

“I mean, not _okay_ , okay. But okay, I hear what you’re saying.”

Jared’s eyes darken, like a sad puppy’s.

They drive in silence and Jensen wonders just exactly what Jared meant by _freelance_. Was he working for someone like Blackwater or G4S? Or was he working independently? Was he, effectively, an assassin, just like the one currently gunning for Jensen?

Jensen stares sightlessly out the side window. Chris and the guys in the task force are probably worried sick about him.

Jensen frowns. At least, the ones who aren’t part of the plot to kill him are probably worried sick; if, in fact, any of them are part of said plot. Jim should be safe enough to call. Right? He reaches into his jacket pocket for his cell phone and…it’s not there. He quickly checks all his other pockets and the seat beneath him, getting more worried by the second.

“Jay?” he says. “Have you seen my cell phone?”

Jared nods. “It’s back at my place. It could be used to track you so I lifted it from your jacket before we left.”

It occurs to Jensen that, just maybe, he’s been a fucking idiot. He could be happily aiding and abetting his own kidnapping here. Jared might not want to kill him. Yet. But that doesn’t mean he’s not being taken hostage. It doesn’t mean Jared _won’t_ kill him at some point in the future.

Jensen thinks about reaching for his gun, but with all the Special Forces and Black Ops training, Jared could probably decapitate him with a cleverly folded piece of paper, one handed, while driving, before Jensen even got his gun out of its holster. He swallows. Just because Jared is sex on legs, just because he has an ass you could bounce a nickel off and the sexiest bedroom eyes Jensen has seen in… _ever_ , doesn’t mean he can be trusted.

“Jensen?” Jay says softly. “I swear I’m not going to hurt you. I _like_ you. You’re awkward and sarcastic and funny and so Goddamn hot. I just…I’m trying to save your life, man. That’s all.”

Those beseeching puppy dog eyes are really hard to resist.

“I know I’m asking a lot,” Jared says. “But please trust me. Please.”

Jensen wants to trust Jared, he really does. But he can’t. Not yet.

“I want to make a phone call,” he says tightly.

“Who to?”

“My parents. If I have to go off grid for a while, I want them to know I’m safe.”

Jared nods. “There’s a plastic bag with some burners in it in one of the duffle bags. Just…please don’t call your team or the police or anything. Okay? I’m your best option for staying safe. I know how these guys think.”

Jensen doesn’t want to think too hard about why that is, so he simply reaches for the duffle bags on the back seat and finds the plastic bag with the burners.

His phone call to his Mom is short and succinct. He tells her there’s been an attempt on his life, but he’s safe and that he’ll call again. He doesn’t give her the _all clear_ phrase they organized years ago, but he doesn’t give her the _contact authorities_ alert phrase either. He can tell she’s worried, but hopefully, by his next call, he’ll feel confident enough about Jared to give her the _all clear_.

Jared pulls into a multi-story carpark and in a cloak-and-dagger move which Jensen suspects is straight out of the CIA playbook, they switch cars. Jensen thinks it says a lot about the kind of life Jared used to lead that he still has ‘just in case’ cars stashed around the place.

“So where exactly are we going?” Jensen asks when they’re back on the road again. “Where is this safe house of yours?”

“San Antonio,” Jared replies.

They arrive at a small house with white clapboard siding a little after half past one. The inner suburban neighborhood seems a little rough, Jensen thinks, as he helps Jared take the bags into the house, but he doesn’t think they’ll come out in the morning to find the car stripped and resting on four bricks or anything.  It _is_ probably the kind of neighborhood where people turn a blind eye to any trouble that doesn’t involve them, but that’s probably not a bad thing, given their current situation.  

The house is also what realtors like to call ‘conveniently located’ with a Little Caesars, a Mexican Family Restaurant, a Walgreens and a grocery store all within easy walking distance.

Jared has a fair amount of canned food in the safe house, but no fresh food; nothing that could go off, so they take a walk to the local grocery store and stock up. Jensen also buys some toiletries and some spare underwear, using cash that Jay gives him, because the assassin is probably tracking Jensen’s card so Jay won’t let him use it.

They also get beer.

The house has two bedrooms, both with Queen-sized beds in them. Jared has some spare clothes in his wardrobe and he brings Jensen out a pair of sweatpants, a tee-shirt and a hoodie to change into. The tee-shirt and hoodie are fine, and even though the sweatpants either shrank in the wash or belonged to a much shorter person than Jared, Jensen still has to roll them up a little. It’s nice to get out of the suit, though.

“So,” Jared says when they’re sitting in the living room with their feet up, having a cold one like they’re nothing but a couple of guys catching up after a hard day at work. “Who put the hit out on you and why?”

Jensen takes a long swallow of beer enjoying the robust flavour and the thirst-quenching coolness of the brew. “I’ve got a couple of questions of my own,” he says. “You answer mine, I’ll answer yours. Deal?”

Jared inclines his head. “Depends what you ask.”

“Fair enough. When Sandy thought you were the target of the hit she referred to someone as _fucking bitch_. Who was she talking about?”

Jared licks at his lips. “I’m not giving you a name, but, uh, someone I used to work for on a fairly regular basis. I was still freelance, but I mostly worked for her. She’s good people, Jensen. She wasn’t too happy when I told her I was retiring, but she gave me her blessing. And given how much I know?” Jared shrugs, “the conversation could’ve gone a whole other way. If it were anyone else in her shoes, it probably would have.”

“So Sandy thought this former employer reneged on her promise to let you get out?”

Jared nods. “Yep. So who--”

Jensen cuts him off. “One more question. When I came into the bakery this morning you were already looking tense. Why?”

Jared meets his eyes and holds them for a long while and then he sighs. “I thought I saw someone this morning. Someone who I know used to work for the same former employer on occasion. Sandy saw this person too—they walked right past the bakery—and we both wondered if they’d been sent after us.”

Jensen has to look away. And he has to wonder if he really is safe here with Jay. Because there have apparently been _two_ assassins in Jensen’s vicinity this morning; the Cortese Cartel made an attempt on his life this morning; and the chances of neither of those two assassins being involved in it are statistically remote. Also?  If Jared and this person sometimes worked for the same organization, there’s a very good chance that Jared sometimes worked for the Cortese Cartel. And the Cortese Cartel wants Jensen dead. What’s to say that Jared won’t decide to kill Jensen himself and then ask his former employer for the fee?

“So who took the hit out on you?” Jared asks again. “Do you know?”

Jensen nods. “But I’m not telling you. I’m sorry, Jay, but I don’t trust you yet.”

Hurt flickers across Jared’s face for a brief moment and then he raises his chin and drags his eyes up and down Jensen’s body lecherously. “So I guess sex is off the table then?” he says, with a very suggestive leer in his tone.

Jensen can feel his dick responding. “Been a while since I had sex on a table,” he quips.

Jared’s leer becomes more pronounced. “You wanna bend me over, Jensen? Fuck me good over the kitchen table?”

Jensen swallows. “You’d want that? You wouldn’t prefer to top?”

Jared shrugs. “I’m versatile.”

“As am I,” Jensen frowns. “But, uh, yeah. You were right the first time. I like casual sex as much as the next guy, but if we’re gonna get up close and personal, I gotta be sure you’re not just looking for a good place to stick a knife.”

Jared looks pained at that, but he doesn’t argue the point, simply nods his understanding and takes a long swig of beer. “Given who I saw walk past the bakery this morning and given your job, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea who wants you dead,” Jay looks hard at Jensen. “The problem I‘m having is that killing law enforcement isn’t usually their style. So if it is them, you must’ve done something pretty unforgivable.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me? You think _I’m_ the bad guy here?”

Jared shrugs.

“You can talk,” Jensen snaps. “You used to kill people for a living!”

“I was always selective about the jobs I took,” Jared says calmly. “I wasn’t out there shooting Greenpeace activists. If I showed up on your doorstep, then you did something to bring me there.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Alright, John Cusack.”

“Just because it’s a line from a movie, doesn’t make it untrue. A demon’s resume really is an accurate analogy for some of the files I’ve seen. If…a certain person…wants you dead, you gotta be a demon, Jensen. So what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! I did my job. I _investigated_. I got close. That’s all.”

 Jensen can’t believe he’s having to defend himself to a former assassin.

“If that’s true,” Jared says. “Then let me help you.”

Jensen rubs a hand across his mouth. Really, what does he have to lose? If he’s right that Jared has ties to the Cortese Cartel then there’s nothing to stop him from asking _them_ if they’ve got a hit out on Jensen. At least if he tells Jared, then he knows that Jared knows. And Jensen does still have his gun and a cell phone.

He takes a deep breath and keeps a close eye on Jared’s gun hand. “I’ve been told that the Cortese Cartel has taken out a contract on my life.”

Jared nods. “I’m gonna make a phone call,” he disappears into his bedroom for a minute and Jensen draws his gun.

Jared comes back with a cell phone. He glances at Jensen’s drawn weapon, but makes no comment, simply sits down and punches in a number.

The tinny voice that Jensen can hear answer is unmistakeably female.

“I’m with Jensen Ackles,” Jared says.

The female voice replies, but Jensen can’t make out what she says.

“Uh huh,” Jared says. “I see. And did you order his death?”

The reply is indignant.

“That’s interesting,” Jared says. “Because he’s been told that you did. And I personally witnessed a sharpshooter try to kill him today.”

The voice on the other end has a lot to say to that. Jared nods and _uh huhs._  “Well I saw Danni in town today too,” he says when the voice briefly pauses, “so maybe start there?”

The voice goes on another long spiel and Jared listens, making the occasional non-committal noise, and then his face softens and he smiles. “We met through my new job. I didn’t know he was a Fed, I just knew that he was smokin’ hot and yeah, he bats for my team. We were supposed to be going on a date tonight, so I’d really like to get this whole thing cleared up quickly.”

The person on the other end squeals loudly.

When Jared finally hangs up he’s grinning broadly. “She didn’t order the hit,” he says happily.

Jensen decides to test his theory. “Genevieve Cortese, right?”

Jared’s face closes off.

Jensen grins. “I knew it. My partner laughed at me, but there was so much pointing to it. People always underestimate a tiny, pretty, young woman. She’s very good at what she does.”

Jared sighs. “Yeah. Well. She’s a fan of yours too. You’re lead agent in the task force into her business, apparently.”

Jensen nods.

“Well she says you’re smart and insightful and too good to be working for the Feds. It’s a shame you’re on opposite sides. I think you’d really like each other.”

Jensen thinks so too. He’s admired her business acumen for a while, and the woman actually _squealed_ with happiness at the thought of Jay on a date with a guy he really liked. She’s starting to seem like a nice person, as well as an astute business person.

“Anyway,” Jared continues, “she’s gonna look into this, see if she can figure out what’s going on. She’ll call me back when she has something. In the meantime, how do you wanna pass the time?”

Jensen tilts his head. “Got a pack of cards?”

 

Jensen can’t believe he let Jay talk him into strip poker. And he can’t believe he’s losing.

Jared is sitting opposite him wearing boxers and both his socks and frankly, the man’s six pack and impressive chest has been distracting Jensen badly. So badly, in fact, that he lost the last six  games in a row and is now stripped down to his tighty-whities and they don’t leave much to the imagination, which could be why Jay is studiously looking at his face.

Jensen runs his tongue over his lips and then pokes the tip out while he contemplates his next move. Jay whimpers softly and Jensen bites softly at his lower lip in a calculated move designed to be painfully distracting to his opponent.

“Fuck,” Jay breathes. “You’re killing me here, man.”

Jensen merely smirks.

Jay loses the next two games and now they’re both sitting on the sofa in nothing but their underpants

They finished the beer a long time ago and they’ve now moved onto Tequila. It’s been a long while since Jensen had this much to drink and he’s starting to feel it. God, he really wants to win this next one and see what Jared’s hiding under those baggy shorts. Is Jared proportional?  Fuck, Jensen hopes so. The thought has him stifling a groan and he has to reach down and press a hand against his straining erection.

“Fuck,” Jay says. He throws his cards down. “I fold.”

He stands up and yanks his shorts down and Jensen whimpers out loud at the sight of his big, beautiful, proportional cock standing red and erect against his belly.

Jared falls back against the sofa and yanks his shorts off, getting them tangled briefly around his feet in his haste.

“Look what you’re doin’ to me,” Jared says. “Want you so fuckin’ bad. Top, bottom, don’t care, just…God… _something_. Anything.”

Jensen is on him before the sentence is complete. He sinks to his knees and stares reverently at Jay’s gorgeous cock before swallowing it down as far as he gag reflex will allow. Which is pretty damn far. Jensen doesn’t like to brag, but he gives amazing head.

Jared seems to think so too if his whimpers and groans and _‘Oh God Jen’_ s are anything to go by.

Jay is leaning against the back of the sofa with his head tipped back and his legs spread wide. Jensen’s hands are resting on Jared’s thighs and Jared’s hands are on top of his. At least they start out there. When Jensen pulls back and tongues at the head of Jay’s dick, Jared reaches up and grabs him by the hair, pushing him back down, while he thrusts up, fucking his throat so hard and deep that Jensen almost does gag.

_“Shit, fuck, sorry, oh God!”_

Jared lets go of Jensen’s hair and Jensen pulls off just in time for Jared to come all over his own chest and stomach.

Jensen wipes him off with a discarded tee-shirt.

“Lube?” he says.

Jared points at the shelf beneath the coffee table and Jensen reaches for the tube of Astro-glide that he sees down there.

“Turn around,” he says.

Jay does as he’s told, kneeling on the sofa, resting his torso against the back of it, spreading his legs and sticking his ass out.

It’s a pretty sight and Jensen swallows hard. He squirts some lube onto his fingers and works Jay open with ruthless efficiency. Jay hisses a little at the too-fast prep, but he doesn’t tell Jensen to stop and Jensen figures Jay owes him for the rough face-fucking, so he’s not gonna go easy on the man unless he’s asked to.

Jensen guides his lubed dick to Jay’s hole and rests there for just a moment before pushing inside in one slow, relentless slide. Jay’s breathing is a little shaky but he opens up for Jensen easy enough and Jensen bottoms out quickly.

“Okay?” he asks gruffly.

Jared nods and Jensen gets in maybe half a dozen thrusts before he’s pulling out and coming on Jared’s ass cheek with a muttered curse.

“Been a while, huh?” Jay says.

“Yeah,” Jensen ducks his head sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Jay grins. “Don’t be. You just sucked my brain out through my dick. I had no chance of getting hard again, so the fuck was just for you. We’ll do better next time when we’re not both so keyed up.”

The thought of a next time makes Jensen happy. Until he remembers that he’s not supposed to be trusting Jay right now. Goddammit. Alcohol always does make him think with his downstairs brain.

They both redress silently and by mutual agreement, their guns stay side-by-side on the coffee table. Jensen tells Jay that he needs to call home again.

Jay nods. “You’ve got an all clear and an alert phrase set up with them, don’t you?”

Jensen stares at him open-mouthed and Jay shrugs. “I’ve got the same thing set up with my family.”

The idea of Jared actually having a family seems bizarre, but Jensen supposes that even lone wolf assassins have to come from somewhere.

Jared doesn’t try to stop him from calling home and Jensen doesn’t give his mom the all clear phrase, even though he’s had his dick in Jay’s ass. He still can’t fully trust him. Not yet. He promises to call back before he turns in for the night and when he finishes the call, Jared makes a phone call of his own and has the same kind of circumspect conversation with his own family that Jensen just had with his.

They order pizza for supper and Jensen switches to soda, because he really does need to keep his wits about him.

Jay talks a bit about his family and Jensen learns that he’s the middle child of three just like he is, with both an older brother and a younger sister, also just like him. The similarities between them are uncanny and it’s not long before they’re chatting away like old friends.

Jensen has to keep reminding himself that Jared is an assassin. That they operate on opposite sides of the law. That he can’t trust Jared. But the man just has a way of making Jensen let his guard down.

When the cell phone that Jared used to call Genevieve Cortese rings they both stare at it for a moment and then Jared clears his throat and answers it.

Jared frowns a lot while he listens to whatever Cortese has to say, but he doesn’t say much more than the occasional _uh huh_ and _okay_. He’s scowling when he hangs up.

“Does the name Mick Luther mean anything to you?” he asks Jensen.

Jensen shakes his head. “Should it?”

Jared shrugs. “He’s the newest IT guy on the Cortese team, only been with them for just over a year. Apparently _he_ ordered the hit on his own initiative, because he didn’t like how deep you were digging. That’s not how Gen does things so she’s cancelled the hit, and she’s spoken to Danni to make sure it’s cancelled. And she’s fired Mick,” Jared frowns again. “But something just doesn’t _feel_ right, you know?”

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” Jensen says, and he’s quite proud of how steady his voice stays.

Jared actually has the audacity to look hurt. “No,” he says. “Why would I do that? I just got done telling you that Gen doesn’t operate like that.”

“Because you’ve pretty much outright told me that you used to be a hitman for the Cortese Cartel; that Genevieve Cortese is the ‘unknown’ boss of the Cartel, and you know that I’m a Fed. Maybe Genevieve doesn’t _like_ to kill Feds, but you’ve gotta admit, your life; Genevieve’s life; they’d both be much safer if I dropped dead.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “Can you _prove_ I was a hitman for the Cortese Cartel? Can you _prove_ Gen’s the boss?”

“Not yet,” Jensen says mulishly.

Jared sighs. “Look,” he says. “Something doesn’t _feel_ right about this. I’m just not buying Mick’s overzealous protection of the boss shtick. He’s too new…he _knows_ he doesn’t know everything and he’s smart enough not to go behind the boss’s back and risk fucking something up.”

“You think he’s got his own reasons for wanting me dead and he tried to use the Cartel to get it done?”

Jared nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I think.”

“Okay,” Jensen runs a hand over his chin. “The name didn’t ring any bells, but maybe if I take a look at him it’ll jog my memory. Can you get a picture of him?”

Mick Luther works IT security for one of the Cortese Cartel’s legitimate businesses which sells shoes and purses imported from Italy. Jensen has long suspected that occasionally, Empress Shoe Emporium imports other less legal things from Italy, but so far he hasn’t been able to prove it.

A quick text to Gen gets Jared a copy of Mick Luther’s employee ID photo and when Jared shows it to Jensen, Jensen’s blood turns to ice.

“You recognize him,” Jay says.

Jensen shakes his head. “Nope.”

Jared stares at him. “Yes you do. You’re lying to me.”

Jensen meets Jared’s eyes and holds his gaze.

There aren’t many out, openly gay men in the FBI’s Dallas field office. There are two, to be exact. Jensen himself, of course. And undercover operative Michael Rosenbaum.  AKA Mick Luther, apparently.

Has all this been some complicated play by the Cartel to flush out an undercover mole in their operation? Or does one of his FBI colleagues really want him dead? Has Mike turned? Is he now a double agent working for the Cartel? Does Jim know they’ve got an agent in the Cartel? Why wasn’t Jensen told?

Until Jensen knows the answer to some of those questions there is no way he’s outing a colleague to the Cartel and putting Mike’s life at risk.

“You said the hit on me was now cancelled?” he says to Jared.

Jay nods.

“Then I need to head back to the office.”

Jared’s face scrunches, his expression pained. “Jensen…you could still be in danger.”

Jensen nods. “I think you’re right,” he says. “I think there _is_ something fishy going on. But I can’t figure it out from here.”

Jared stares at him, his expression hard, as if he’s trying to will Jensen into submission with the power of his mind. Jensen simply meets his gaze head on and waits him out.

“Fine,” Jay finally sighs. He picks up his keys from the coffee table and hands them to Jensen. “Take my truck.”

Jensen takes the keys and stands up.

“And Jensen?” Jared adds. “Be careful.”

It’s nearly 11pm by the time Jensen pulls into the underground carpark of the task force’s office building.  He scans his way inside and logs onto his computer. He calls his mom and tells her he’s okay, but he still doesn’t give her the all clear.  

Jensen spends the next couple of hours reading transcripts and reports and looking at surveillance photos. He makes some phone calls and does some googling. He even goes into the records room and digs out the pre-task force records that are kept in cardboard archive boxes and contain reports and photos going back nearly two decades.

Two o’clock in the morning sees a very wired Jensen drinking his sixth cup of double-strength coffee and staring sightlessly at the carefully selected files and photos spread out on the board table in the meeting room. He doesn’t like the picture that’s beginning to emerge. Not at all.

Even worse, he’s not sure what to do with the information he’s gathered; not sure who to talk to about what he thinks might be happening. He could be wrong. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything. But his gut doesn’t think so. Or maybe he’s just had too much coffee. Maybe that’s why his stomach is doing somersaults.

Jensen sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. What he _really_ wants is to talk to Jay about all this.

And he could. Jared gave him one of his burner phones and his cell-phone number. So he _could_ talk to Jared about this. Jensen is just not sure that he _should_. Maybe he should talk to Jim. Or Chris. After all, this _is_ an FBI issue. The trouble is, Jensen isn’t sure who he can trust; he’s not sure how far the rot goes.

He’s also acutely aware that the fact that he’s in the office has been officially logged; as has the computer files he’s looked at this evening. Of course, the more damning information he got from the old paper files, but that doesn’t change the very real probability that his computer searches are going to mean that whoever wants him dead (and he’s sickening sure he knows who that is) is going to come at him even harder. And possibly more directly.

Jensen sits with his head bowed and contemplates his next move. Whatever it’s going to be, he needs to make it soon, because the longer he sits here doing nothing, the greater the opportunity for his would-be murderer to get all their ducks in a row and try to kill him again.

Jensen takes a very deep breath. He gets to his feet, slowly and reluctantly, and takes the keys to Jay’s truck out of his pocket.

Jensen is half way across the underground carpark to the truck when he hears his name, called softly, in a voice that sends chills up and down his spine. And not the good, sexy sort of chills either. He reaches for his gun, but the voice says, ‘ _Don’t_ ’, sharply.

Jensen stills, and watches in horror as Director J.D. Morgan comes out from behind a row of parked cars, with his gun held to Jared’s head.

“Look who I found lurking,” J.D. says smugly.

Jensen meets Jared’s eyes and is relieved to see the calm expression in them.

“Jack from the bakery?” he says injecting a lot of befuddled bemusement into his tone.

“Oh please,” J.D. scoffs. “Like you don’t already know who he really is.”

“Tell him what you’re planning to do,” Jared says.

J.D. laughs. “You don’t think I’m stupid enough to do that whole ‘villain monologue’ thing, do you?”

“Was that a confession, J.D.?” Jensen says. “Do you admit that you’re a villain?”

J.D. laughs again and Jensen’s eyes widen as he sees J.D.’s trigger finger move.

There’s a loud bang and Jensen screams ‘ _NO!’_ throwing himself forward just as J.D.’s head explodes, sending blood, bone and brain spattering onto the concrete pillar behind him in a shower of red, white and pink that would’ve done an abstract artist proud. 

Time seems to slow. Jensen watches as Jared completes his sideways dive, hits the ground and rolls gracefully, before leaping to his feet again. Jensen’s ears are ringing. He turns and spots the casually-dressed woman with the hand gun on the next car park level up. She smiles and waves before turning away.

“Jensen?” Jared is by his side, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Are you okay?”

Jensen nods and then frowns. He pulls away and stares up at Jared. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

Jared smiles sheepishly. “I, uh, followed you. I was worried. Wanted to keep an eye on you.”

He nods at Director Morgan’s body. “And J.D.?”

“Turned up when you’d been in there about an hour and a half. He spent some time pacing and kept calling someone on his cell phone, but whoever it was, they didn’t answer. Eventually I heard him say, ‘for fuck’s sake, Mike, answer your damn phone!’ I thought he looked familiar, but I didn’t know who he was and I wasn’t sure whether he was a danger to you or not, so I just settled for watching him. Unfortunately,” Jared pauses and nods at the big round mirror mounted at the corner of the car park’s down ramp, “he saw my reflection in that and came up on me from behind. And he obviously knew who I was too.”

Jared goes on to explain that J.D. had forced him out of the car at gunpoint, telling Jared that this was perfect, that he could stage it to look like Jared had shot Jensen, and J.D. had then shot Jared in retaliation.  

“What he didn’t know,” says a woman’s voice, “is that Jay had back up.”

The woman who shot J.D. has made her way down to them and Jensen swallows nervously.

“Danni,” Jay says, throwing his arms around the woman and hugging her tightly.

Jensen eyes her suspiciously when Jay lets her go.

“Hi Jensen,” she says. “Sorry about the misunderstanding earlier.”

“Misunderstanding,” Jensen echoes sourly.

Danni nods. “The job brief said you were a child rapist who’d been acquitted because you had all the witnesses too terrified to speak up. I don’t take jobs from people I don’t trust to do their research thoroughly, and Gen, she would never put out a hit on someone who didn’t absolutely deserve it, and then some. Some asshole set us all up,” she nods at J.D. “I’m guessing that asshole there. Who is he anyway?”

Jensen clears his throat. “J.D. Morgan. FBI. Director of the Dallas Field Office.”

“Huh,” Jared says. “And he wanted you dead, why?”

The wail of sirens coming closer pierces the night.

“Oh yeah,” Danni says. “FYI, I called 911. We should probably take a moment to get our story straight.”

Jensen has his badge out when the police arrive. He introduces Jared as his boyfriend, Danni as a friend, and he tells the police they’d both come with him to double-check some task force information after a failed attempt on his life earlier that day. He takes the police into the office and shows them the photographs spread out on the board table, talks them through the reports and shares his suspicion that J.D. Morgan had been selling information to the Cortese Cartel for nearly two decades, until the old guard was pushed aside and a new, younger, more technologically-able team took over. The new team could usually get whatever information they needed by hacking, so they didn’t need to cultivate corrupt cops or agents, which meant J.D.’s extra-curricular income had been cut

Jim Beaver turns up during Jensen’s explanation, looking grim-faced and concerned. He hugs Jensen hard and looks at the damning information.

“We’ll need to get hold of his bank records,” Jensen tells Jim, “but the anecdotal evidence suggests that J.D. was living well beyond his legitimate means.”

Jim is glowering, pretty much non-stop now.

“Why did he want you dead? If he hadn’t shown his hand by trying to kill you, you might never have put two and two together.”

Jensen rubs a hand across the back of his neck.

“My best guess is that Director Morgan was trying to achieve two things here. I think he _was_ worried that my thorough research into the Cortese Cartel would eventually reveal that he _had_ been on their payroll for years, so first off, he wanted me out of the way. And secondly, he wanted to push the Bureau Chief into allowing Dallas branch to keep all its records in hard copy only. We both know the Bureau Chief wasn’t a fan of the idea. He always argued that it would make information sharing between the branches and task forces harder. I think J.D. thought that if he could show that an agent got assassinated because the Cartel was monitoring the task force investigation remotely, watching everything it did and knew, then maybe the Chief would agree to change the record-keeping policy. Having everything paper-based would mean it couldn’t be accessed by a hacker. And that would give J.D. a chance to get back on the Cartel’s payroll.”

Obviously there will have to be a full scale investigation and the fall out for the Bureau is going to be horrific. Jensen just hopes that he can keep Jared and Danni out of it, as much as possible,

Danni and Jared are both questioned by the police and Danni explains to them that while J.D. had held the gun right against Jared’s head, he’d discounted her as a threat because she was a woman. She says she’d managed to get a gun out of the car’s glove box and shove it into the waist band of her jeans without J.D. noticing. She tells the Officer she had hoped that Jensen would be able to talk J.D. down and arrest him, but when it looked like J.D. was going to murder Jared, she’d taken action. She cries a little then, her hands shaking, as she tremulously admits that she didn’t think she’d ever be able to sleep again, because the gun had been _so_ loud and what happened to J.D. had been just _awful_.

“I know he was a bad man,” she sobs. “But seeing him _die_ like that…Oh _God_ …”

Jensen watches as Danni is comforted by a police officer who even gives her a card for a trauma counsellor. Damn she’s a good actress. It’s actually kind of terrifying. 

When they’re finally all given leave to go Danni lets the kindly police officer escort her home, and even manages to wink at Jensen as she gets into the cruiser.

Jensen takes hold of Jared’s hand and walks him to the truck.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he pulls the truck out of the carpark.

Jared nods. “I knew Danni had my back. What about you? How are you feeling?”

Jensen shrugs. “Disillusioned.  I thought I was working for the good guys, but the good guys turned out to be the bad guys and the bad guys turned out to be the good guys. The idea of making coffees and cupcakes for a living is starting to sound very appealing.”

Jared chuckles. “I’m not sure I’d trust you to do any actual baking, but you can put rainbow sprinkles on my cupcakes any time, baby.”

Jensen side-eyes Jared suspiciously. “Is that another pick up line?”

Jared nods. “Yep. Is it working?”

Jensen lifts one hand from the wheel and makes a so/so gesture.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Jared asks.

“My place in Richardson,” Jensen says.

“Okay.”

There’s a long moment of silence and then Jared says, “So…boyfriend?”

Jensen chews on his bottom lip. “I just thought…it explained why you were there better than _friend_. And why J.D. grabbed you—the big guy—rather than Danni, the seemingly more vulnerable woman, as leverage.”

“Okay,” Jared says again.

Jensen thinks he sounds disappointed.

He sighs. “Also…our first date didn’t exactly go as planned. I was thinking maybe we could try again. And maybe there could also be more sex. And maybe, eventually, that might lead into, you know, relationship territory. So calling you my boyfriend could maybe be seen as more of a prediction than an outright lie?”

Jared tilts his head and regards Jensen silently. “I like the sound of that,” he says eventually.

The sun is up by the time they get back to Jensen’s place and they’re both too exhausted to do anything but strip down to their underwear, fall into bed and sleep.

Jensen wakes to the sound of his house phone ringing. He glances at the clock on his nightstand and sees that it’s a little after midday. It’s his mom on the phone and she tells him off for not calling earlier; for letting her worry. Jensen apologizes, explaining that he was up all night investigating and that he was so exhausted he forgot to phone her before he fell asleep. He gives her the all clear and she hangs up, somewhat mollified. Jensen puts the handset back on the cradle and then rolls onto his back. Jared is awake, propped up on one elbow and looking at him.

“Lookin’ good G’man,” Jared says.

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Wish I could say the same. Your hair looks ridiculous; like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.”

Jared grins. “What are you, my mama?”

Jensen responds by rolling on top of Jay and kissing him thoroughly.

“Definitely not my mama,” Jared quips when they come up for air.

Jensen scowls at him. He stops scowling when Jared thrusts up against him and they spend some time rubbing against each other, kissing, until Jared pushes Jensen away.

“Want to fuck you?” he says, his eyes dark with intent. “Can I?”

Jensen nods, wordlessly. He reaches for the nightstand drawer and pulls it open, fumbles inside for Astro-glide and condoms. He rolls off Jared and preps himself. Jared is big and he wants to make sure it’s not going to hurt.

Jared’s eyes seem to darken even further. “Fuck,” he says reverently. “So fuckin’ hot. Can’t wait to get my dick in there.”

Apparently he can’t wait to get inside Jensen, period, because a moment later he’s squeezing lube onto his fingers and shoving two of them into Jensen, alongside the three of Jensen’s own that are already in there.

“Fuck,” Jensen swears.

For a moment he feels uncomfortably full and then Jared’s longer fingers find his p-spot and the sudden pleasure is overwhelming.

“C’mon,” Jensen says, pulling his fingers out and rolling onto his stomach. “You ready?”

He spreads his legs and gets up on his knees. “C’mon, Jay.”

There’s the tell-tale crinkle of a condom being unwrapped and then Jared’s dick is pressing against his hole.

Jared slides in easy and Jensen is stretched enough that the burn is minimal. Jay keeps his hands on Jensen’s hips and fucks him deep and hard. Jensen jacks himself slowly, doesn’t put much effort into it; mostly just lets Jared’s thrusts do the work for him. It’s good. Really good. It’s been a while, but Jensen doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed sex this much. Jared is stimulating him in all the right places and Jensen really appreciates his raw masculinity and restrained power too. 

Jensen feels his orgasm building and he picks up the briefs he discarded earlier and holds them over the head of his dick, letting himself fall over the edge with a long, drawn-out moan. That seems to be Jared’s signal to pick up the pace and if Jensen thought he was being fucked hard before, that was nothing compared to the thorough dicking he’s getting now. The bedhead is actually slamming against the wall and Jensen is sliding up and down on his 400 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Jared finally comes with a shout and then he pulls out and rolls onto his back, breathing hard.

Jensen gets out of bed and is pleased to see that his sheets have survived the encounter without getting messed up. He bitches at Jay until he goes and gets rid of the condom and then he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt and goes to make a pot of coffee.

“So,” Jared comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Jensen’s waist. “Were you serious before? About wanting to make cupcakes for a living?”

Jensen scrunches his nose. “Not entirely. I’m pretty disillusioned with the FBI, like I said, but if I was going to do something radically different, I think I’d rather open a microbrewery.”

“Huh,” Jared says. “That could be fun. We could serve food too. And coffee.”

Jensen turns in Jared’s arms and looks up at him. “We?”

Jared bites at his bottom lip. “Well, Danni shot up my bakery, I’m gonna need to open up somewhere else. Trying my hand at something new could be fun. Why not give it a shot?”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “You’re serious? You really want to go into business with me?”

Jared shrugs. “We get along really well. I think we’d make a good team. So if you’re interested. Yeah, sure. Why not?”

The conversation is interrupted by Jensen’s house phone ringing again. It’s Chris this time and Jensen gets another dressing down, this time for keeping his partner out of the loop. Chris is hurt that Jensen wasn’t sure he could trust him and Jensen apologizes profusely, but he thinks it could be a while before Chris forgives him.   

Jared, meanwhile, has cooked them bacon and eggs.

They have breakfast together and then Jensen fucks Jared over the kitchen table. He actually manages to make it last this time. He fucks Jared slow and deep and keeps his hands pinned, won’t let him touch himself. Jensen fucks him until he begs to be allowed to come and Jared’s desperate begging is so pretty that it drives Jensen over the edge, his cock pulsing deep inside of Jared as his orgasm sweeps over him suddenly. He takes Jared in hand then and jacks him off with firm, sure strokes, his dick planted deeply inside him. Jared comes with a low moan.

“You just wait,” he threatens when he’s coherent again. “Payback’s a bitch. Gonna tie you down and edge you ‘til you explode.”

Jensen’s dick twitches. “Promises, promises.”

They shower together and dress and then settle down to watch some Netflix

They watch three episodes of The Great British Baking Show and then pause it to order Chinese takeout and get themselves a beer each.

“So what do you think about J-Squared as a name for the microbrewery?” Jared asks as they settle down to a meal of General Tso’s chicken, fried rice, and Punk IPA.

Jensen looks sideways at him. “The microbrewery we haven’t agreed to open yet?”

Jared nods. “Yeah. That one. These things take time. And planning. I’m just…you know…thinking about it. And I thought _J-Squared_ , because we’re both J and there are two of us. What do you think?”

Jensen looks at Jared then, really _looks_ at him and takes note of how excited he looks.

“I guess it’s a good working title,” he says. “We don’t have to decide on a name right away. Why don’t you do some research and put together a business plan?”

Jared actually bounces a little at that and Jensen can’t help laughing at him, just a little.

“What?” Jared defends. “I get bored easily. This sounds fun.”

Jensen can imagine them doing it too, can see them both behind the bar, serving up beer that they’ve brewed themselves, along with pot pies baked by Jay, with coffee and cakes for dessert. 

It sounds a lot better than spending twelve hours a day going through transcripts of wire taps, looking for dirt on an organization that, if he’s honest with himself, he’s really no longer all that interested in bringing down.

“Yeah,” Jensen says. “It does.”

He hits play and settles on the sofa to watch the next episode of The Great British Baking Show. Jay’s thigh is a hard, warm line against his and when Jensen leans into him, Jared puts an arm around his shoulders.

“You good?” Jared says, looking at him searchingly.

And yeah, Jensen thinks, he really is.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my artist, Merakieros for the magnificent art. Please do go and show them some love; their art is wonderful. Thanks also to my beta reader, Endlessevelina, who is never too busy to read my work, despite being ridiculously busy. And finally, thank you to the challenge mods for putting together the fun! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! IF you've enjoyed, please let me know. :)


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